Chapter 4 Whispers from the Temple Below

Aria woke up tangled in sheets that still smelled like sweat, sex, and something rawer-like iron and storm winds. Her skin was a mess, bruised up with Kael's kisses, but there were other marks too. Deeper ones. Older than lust, almost like someone had written ancient words on her bones.

Kael was gone. Of course. The man had a habit of disappearing before sunrise, leaving nothing but heat and chaos in his wake.

But the fire he'd lit inside her? Still burning. Hell, it was a raging inferno. Her thighs ached in that filthy, satisfying way that left her grinning into the pillow, her breasts tender from where he'd bitten her, and her soul-oh, her soul felt like it was trying to claw its way out of her body. Too big, too wild, like she'd swallowed a star and it was desperate to break free.

By all rights, she should've felt shame. Or at least a little guilt. Maybe some fear. That's what good girls did after a night like that, right? But Aria just lay there, trembling all over, lips parted and swollen, and whispered to the empty room-

"Again."

Nobody answered. Not even the shadows. But honestly? She didn't need anyone to. Somewhere deep beneath the keep, in the places people didn't talk about, something ancient heard her. Something that had been sleeping for centuries, waiting for someone just like her.

---

Later, she yanked on her battered leather armor-nothing pretty, nothing delicate. Today, silk would just feel like a lie. No gowns, no lace. She strapped on her boots, tied her hair back, and left the room without looking back. She wasn't the lord's pampered daughter right now. She was a hunter, and the truth was her prey.

She stalked the halls, eyes sharp enough to cut. The guards-those poor bastards-stepped aside before she could even glare at them. Everybody knew better than to cross Aria Valebryn. She'd been a wild thing since she was a kid, reading strategy manuals instead of fairy tales. While the other noble girls learned to curtsy and bat their eyelashes, Aria was busy learning how to gut a man in close quarters.

The keep shifted as she descended, stone growing colder against her boots. The air tasted strange, like old secrets and colder blood. It was the place under the place, the part of the castle people pretended didn't exist. She could hear things-sounds that weren't quite words. Hushed whispers, or maybe prayers. Or maybe it was just the past, echoing around her, refusing to die.

At the bottom, a spiral staircase ended at an archway sealed in something that looked suspiciously like bone. Not human either-this was too thick, too white. It made her skin crawl just looking at it.

Above it, carved in bloodstone, the words:

"ALL WHO BLEED BENEATH THE MOON SHALL RETURN TO THE BEAST."

Her mark-the one Kael had given her-flared hot, and she stepped through with jaw clenched.

---

The chamber beyond was massive. You could fit a cathedral in it and still have room for ghosts. The place was a shrine, old as dirt, dust thick enough to choke. Runes flickered across the floor, faint and angry. In the middle, an altar-untouched, clean, like rot itself refused to land there.

On it, black marble, a carving straight out of nightmares: Kael, monstrous and magnificent, wings out, horns back, fangs bared. And kneeling before him-Aria. Not just a generic woman. No, the carver had gotten every detail right. Her face, her hair, even the scar on her collarbone. There was no mistaking it.

She touched the altar and the world shattered.

---

Visions ripped through her mind. She was naked, chained to the stone, gasping-not in pain, but in wild, desperate bliss. Kael took her while flames licked at the walls and the old gods looked on. Their bodies were slick with sweat and blood, her hands clawing at him, her voice wrecked from begging.

"Harder, Kael. Don't stop-gods, don't stop-"

His answer was a snarl, half-curse, half-promise:

"You're mine, Aria. Even in death. No goddess, no war, no curse will ever cut you away from me."

She felt everything. The heat. The power. The sense that something huge and ancient was watching-and approving.

---

She tore her hand back from the altar, heart slamming against her ribs.

"No-no, this isn't real-"

"Isn't it?"

The voice rolled out of the stone itself, so deep and old it made her bones vibrate. Not Kael's, but something that wore his anger and his love like a cloak.

Crack.

The marble split. A clawed hand shoved through, black as night and streaked with ash.

Kael.

Naked, eyes burning gold, wings curling behind him. He looked like a demon and a god all rolled together, every inch of him dangerous and beautiful.

He advanced, voice rough: "You wanted answers. You came all this way. You touched my altar. Now you'll remember everything."

"I didn't want this-"

"Liar." He traced her breast, slow, down to her belt. "You can't sleep unless you feel me. You ache for me. The curse eats your hunger and spits it back double."

She slapped him, hard. The sound echoed off the stone. He barely flinched-just grinned, feral and hungry.

"Good. Fight back. I want your rage as much as your moans."

Then he was on her, kissing her breathless, dragging her down into madness.

---

They didn't make love. Not even close.

They fought-against stone pillars, on blood-soaked altars, her armor shredded, his claws raking down her back. She swore at him as she came on his mouth, bit his shoulder as he growled and spilled inside her. Every touch, every thrust, was raw magic-old, wild, the kind that could shatter curses and kingdoms.

The curse wasn't sleeping anymore.

It was feasting, and so were they.

---

After, she lay in his arms, sweat cooling on her skin, pulse still skittering. Her whole body buzzed, not just from sex but from the power that seemed to crackle in the air.

She looked up, searching his face for something-maybe comfort, maybe warning. He looked softer now, almost gentle. Still wild, but not the kind of wild that would eat you alive. More like the kind that would stand beside you while you did the eating.

"What am I becoming?" she whispered, voice shaky.

Kael brushed sweaty hair off her forehead and pressed a kiss there, slow and sure. "Exactly what you were always meant to be."

She frowned. "Which is?"

He smiled, slow and sly, all promise and danger. "The Queen of Beasts. My queen, Aria. And not even the gods are ready for you."

She laughed, breathless, and felt the world tilt on its axis. Maybe the curse wasn't a curse after all. Maybe it was just the beginning.